


The Lock & La Clé

by meridian_rose (meridianrose)



Series: Lock&Key soulmate au [1]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Asexual Billy Bones, Billy deserves a medal, Blood, F/M, Gen, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Other, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Sharing a Bed, bsbigbang2017, non-sexual soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-11 17:39:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12940344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meridianrose/pseuds/meridian_rose
Summary: "Better alone than a bad soulmate," the saying goes to soothe those who've yet to bond, "better a lifelong friend than a lover's brief spark. Your soulmate is one whom you will always want in your life."After a party game triggers his matchmark, Silver is horrified to find it is not Flint's soulmark, as he'd hoped, but belongs to the one constant in his life, the only person he can't afford to lose. Knowing how good he is at screwing up his personal relationships, Silver takes drastic and dangerous action.





	The Lock & La Clé

**Author's Note:**

> _“A soulmate is someone who has locks that fit our keys, and keys to fit our locks. When we feel safe enough to open the locks, our truest selves step out and we can be completely and honestly who we are; we can be loved for who we are and not for who we’re pretending to be." - Richard Bach_

It was all Jack's fault.

If not for his party, Silver wouldn't be standing here with a paring knife aimed at his wrist.

However, Silver had to admit that even Jack couldn't be blamed for the existence of soulbonds or the soulmarks themselves. Since time immemorial the sigils had appeared on the majority of people's skin, almost always at some point during puberty, finally becoming fixed at around seventeen years of age. It sat just below the back of the wrist, where a watch face would hide it if you wanted. 

If you had a soulmark and if you then developed a soulbond, you received a matchmark. This was a copy of your soulmate's soulmark and it was most frequently found on the inner skin of the same wrist.

Silver had developed his soulmark at fourteen, Max at fifteen or so she said. Billy's wrist remained blank to this day. This had led to Billy doing a lot of research on soulbonds and the associated marks. He'd tried various remedies to bring a mark to fruition before finally accepting that he might never have one, but that it did not mean he could not be happy, nor did it necessarily correlate with his asexuality. He had been involved with the Charity Assisting Soulmates (CAS) ever since. It didn't hurt Billy's career in public relations to be visible and as someone who was both asexual and a-marked he brought a different perspective to the issues surrounding soulbonds.

After all, soulbonds didn't have to be sexual. Some people found their soulmate in their siblings while many asexual people formed a soulbond. Not to mention that you could love someone who wasn't your soulmate. You might have more than one soulbond, rare but not unknown.

Then there was the issue of finding your soulmate. People often lived close to their soulmates, or came to reside near them. Meeting your soulmate for the first time might trigger the bond, though the ways in which bonds were formed were myriad. For someone without a mark, like Billy, they might develop their own mark at the same time as they developed someone's matchmark. CAS could offer assistance if you found yourself with a matchmark and were unable to locate your soulmate, and would mediate if you requested it, handling an introduction when your soulmate was also a stranger, a not unknown occurrence.

Silver knew that Jack and Anne had long borne matching marks. Max always said it didn't matter but he often wondered about that, as he wondered about so many aspects of the complicated polyamory between his three friends.

Five days ago the only reason soulbonds, soulmates, and goddamn soulmarks were on Silver's mind were because the Monday Comment section of his newspaper featured two CAS articles, one of which was written by Billy.

"You're in the newspaper again," Silver had said, reading in-between taking bites of toast and sips of coffee.

Billy's articles always made his position clear; there was no shame in not having a soulmark or matchmark, nor soulbond or soulmate or whatever terminology was preferred. There was no colour you would only see when you met the One. There was no price to be paid if you found your soulmate only for it to be unrequited; any deaths or accidents were coincidences or self-fulfilling prophecies, in particular the suicides of the lovelorn.

Billy nodded, clearing away his cereal bowl. "The _Don't Blame Your SoulMark_ article?"

"Yes." Silver skimmed the text, which said soulmarks were neither lucky nor unlucky and not the cause of the world's woes as some made them out to be. "What about that guy from your office? His soulmark pointed to his brother's wife and that ended in tragedy."

Billy rolled his eyes. "People are always people," he said. "Sexual orientation or supposed soulbonds aside. You make your own choices. There's no penalty for being someone who doesn't commit adultery, or the Church would have decried soulmarks as the work of the devil."

The Church's shifting position on soulmarks had lately settled on a spiritual, rather than physical bond. Plenty of people decried that as more of the institution's usual homophobia and sex-policing. It was complicated. The attitude of other religions to soulmarks varied.

"What about Flint?" Silver said, after finishing his coffee. "That whole mess with Thomas Hamilton."

James Flint bore Thomas's soulmark; Miranda bore both Flint's and Thomas's; Thomas bore neither. Thomas had drifted in and out of Flint's life on several occasions, and the last time had left both Flint and Miranda distraught. None of this stopped Silver longing for Flint.

"That would be a mess without soulmarks," Billy said, weary of repeating this fact. "Their families and their homophobia and how they set up Miranda with Thomas sight unseen like it was some sort of Renaissance-era betrothal? Bound to get messy at some point."

"I suppose so." Silver helped Billy load the dishwasher. Changing the subject, he asked, "Is the party still on?"

Jack had organised a house re-warming party because he'd painted one entire room an entirely new shade of off-white and purchased a new rug, wall hangings, table lamps, and a matching vase. The party was 50% ‘look at my interior decorating skills’ and 50% ‘any excuse for a party’, since Anne didn't really like parties and excuses were difficult to come up with.

"Why wouldn't it be?"

Silver shrugged. Vane and Dusfresne were going to be at the party, not his favourite people, and Jack had sent a hand-made invitation delivered by an actual singing telegram to Edward Teach in an effort to coax him to join in.

Flint would probably be there, dragged by Miranda if necessary, which was more promising.

James Flint was in charge of the catering service at the factory canteen where Silver worked weekdays. He came by a few times a week to check on the canteen and Silver had worked hard to impress his boss. Despite his best efforts however, a small pay rise was all he had to show for his efforts. No matter how much Silver flirted, Flint remained impassive to his charms.

As well as overseeing two other canteens and holding shares in a bakery, Flint also had a partnership with Jack Rackham. This venture was a tea-room where Max worked (she'd been choosing her own hours since becoming involved with Jack and Anne) and was fairly profitable.

On which note, given her involvement with Jack, Max would want Silver and Billy to go to the party.

Still, it was hard for Silver to get excited about the prospect. In fact he'd been having problems getting excited about anything for a week or so. Silver went off to work and wished potatoes came ready peeled, and complained to Randall about the mid-week party (who wanted to go to work the day after a party?) for all the good it did.

He nearly scalded himself with a hot pan and glared at his soulmark as he held it under cold running water. It was itchy and, on his lunch break, a quick Internet search suggested 1) allergies 2) matchmark was imminent 3) cancer.

Which was pretty much the Internet's answer to any medical problem and with a sigh, Silver went back to work and wondered if he could snag a couple of bottles of good rum for the party without anyone noticing.

*

That evening, after she'd taken off her coat and complained about customers' poor tipping habits, Max took Silver's hand in hers, squinting at the soumark. "What happened?"

"I was careless at work. It's fine." The redness had faded and it was probably his absent-minded rubbing at it that had drawn her attention.

She sighed and released him. "Isn't Billy home?"

"He went back out. He's getting pizza for us all."

"That's nice." Max gestured. "Living with people can be stressful but it has many benefits."

Silver agreed and at that moment Billy returned with pizza and a bag of side dishes, and the conversation turned to arguing over the garlic bread.

*

"And I was like depressed for a week, that's how it is before your soulmark appears."

Silver was stuck behind a group of young students, mostly female, who'd given up debating which drinks to order when they finally got to the counter and had turned to discussing soulbonds. He always took lunch after the canteen had finished serving, returning later to help with the clean up and next day's preparations, and given the odd time of day he hadn't expected to have to wait so long for a coffee and a pastry.

"Not it's not, Janine," the sole redhead said with authority. "You start to share your soulmate's emotions, sense if they're surprised or hurt and things. If you were sad for no reason it's because Brad was."

Janine did not take kindly to this. "You're just jealous because you haven't got a matchmark yet."

"I haven't got a soulmark at all," the tallest girl said with a hint of warning. "It's no big deal. Anyway you don't just share emotions, it's more physical than that, isn't it?"

Janine turned to the youth next to her who was desperately trying to concentrate on his phone and not get dragged into the debate. "You have the most beautiful soulmark I've ever seen," she told him. Even, apparently, better than Brad's mark which adorned the inside of her wrist. Every time she gestured both her marks glittered, adorned with the specialist bodypaint intended for this purpose. Some people liked to show off their marks, though unlike soulmarks, matchmarks didn't always show up somewhere visible.

"It says Joe," the young man said. "Like loads of peoples do."

"Marks vary," Janine persisted. "I love how I've got that little dot there, like a star."

Marks did vary but were always a symmetrical image, consisting of delicate swirls, wavy lines, and sometimes elegant dots all of which was a representation of the name you most used at that point in your life.

Around the symbol was your date of birth (day, month, year, and time down to the second) and the co-ordinates of your birthplace; small graceful numbers circled the sigil like the symbols around an astrology chart. This helped your soulmate to identify you , and vice-versa, for there were many John Smiths and María Hernándezes.

Silver glanced at his own soulmark. He didn't think it especially lovely and would never draw attention to it on purpose. Billy, perhaps fascinated by other people's marks due to not having one of his own, maybe just paying attention because of his overall interest in the subject, sometimes ran a thumb over one sweeping curve. "That's a J," he'd say.

Silver knew this; he'd memorised the sigil for James the day he met Flint though he'd never admit it. It had taken a bit longer to find Flint's date of birth but he knew that too and had committed it to heart. He could sketch Flint's soulmark almost as easily as his own.

Billy had taken a photo of both Silver and Max's soulmarks one day after a news story about a body which had only been identified by the soulmark on it.

"Nice," Silver had commented with sarcasm that had been wasted on Billy. That experiment had of course drawn their attention to Max's birthdate and they'd insisted on belatedly celebrating her birthday, which, for undisclosed reasons she had neglected to mention when they'd moved in together just one day before it. Her mark looked, to Silver's untrained eye, more attractive than his own, powerful yet graceful, reminiscent of an ocean wave.

Coffee and a danish in hand, Silver left the store, almost bumping into Jack. They exchanged pleasantries.

"By the way, Dusfresne can't come to the party tomorrow night," Jack told him.

"I wouldn't miss it if he could," Silver said. He'd promised Max he'd go, and besides, free food and drink were never to be casually turned down.

"Good man." Jack gave him a hearty clap on the shoulder and headed off on his own errands.

*

The party was in full swing when the trio arrived, Jack kissing Max on one cheek, and gratefully accepting the gifts they'd brought; three bottles of wine and two of rum between them.

Idelle and Eleanor were dancing with wild abandon along with a few other guests more sedately enjoying themselves. Teach had joined Vane on the balcony, the only place Vane was allowed to smoke. Silver helped himself to snacks and made small talk with Miranda. Billy admired the new table lamps which made Jack happy. To Silver's surprise, Max cornered Flint while Anne sat in the leather chair that was indisputably hers, sipping silently from a bottle of her favourite craft beer.

"Game time," Jack said at some point to various groans and a few cheers.

The events of previous social occasions had led to the banning of poker, Monopoly, Scrabble, charades, and Pretty Pretty Princess.

"We banned charades?" Jack asked in confusion when he suggested the game.

"You probably don't remember on account of Vane almost knocking you out trying to mime 'Boom! Shake the Room'," Billy piped up.

"Oh. Yes." Jack rubbed at his chin. "I remember why we banned Scrabble."

Everyone looked at Silver who tossed his head. "They were words."

"They weren't in the dictionary!" Flint's renewed anger was quelled only by a restraining hand by Miranda.

"What about 'Never have I ever'," Idelle suggested but this was widely agreed to be a rather difficult game to win given the experiences of the guests, not the mention the potential for secrets being revealed and arguments being provoked.

So when Jack suggested spin the bottle it was out of desperation rather than careful planning.

"What are we, twelve?" Vane asked, as if it wasn't he and Eleanor's bickering which had turned into hair pulling and the banning of Pretty Pretty Princess.

"Not with a rum bottle we're not," Jack retorted.

"For fuck's sake, Jack," Anne groused, but Max took her hand and gave a bright smile.

"Come on. Party games are part of the fun," Max said, as if her words could make it so.

Soon everyone was seated in a rough circle on the floor, the sofa having been pushed to one side of the room and the new wool rug, cream with brown circles, being shown off to its fullest.

Jack spun the bottle first. The neck pointed at Teach who not only had taken a dining chair, eschewing the floor, but now gave Jack such a withering look that the houseplants behind Jack threatened to wilt.

"You get one refusal," Jack ad libbed, dabbing at his forehead with one sleeve. "Eleanor, your turn."

Eleanor, with a deft flick of her wrist and, it was later suspected, her clever choice of seat, got the bottle to point to Max sitting opposite her. They kissed. Anne glowered. Jack sweated a little more.

"Aren't there usually forfeits?" Billy asked, taking his turn. "Rather than a refusal?"

And so Billy happily chewed down a slice of jalapeno instead of kissing Idelle.

Silver lacked Eleanor's skill, aiming for Flint and ending up with Vane. Flint was watching with interest and Silver, emboldened, crawled over on hands and knees and gave Vane the briefest of kisses on the lips.

Vane raised an eyebrow but said nothing and Silver retook his place, feeling he'd had a narrow escape.

Teach supposedly got an urgent phone call and excused himself, and after Miranda gave Billy a sweet kiss on the forehead, she took Billy to keep her company on the balcony while she got some air. Everyone else played on.

Jack and Anne kissed. Silver caught the odd expression on Max's face before she put on that over-bright smile once more. Were they having an argument?

When it was Silver's turn again he managed to make the bottle land pointing at Flint. Flint regarded him with a challenge in his eyes.

"Unless you'd rather take the forfeit," Silver offered as he moved closer.

"Show me what you've got," Flint retorted.

This kiss had been built up in Silver's imagination for so long that it could never have compared. There was nothing wrong with it, and Silver took as much time as he dared, cupping Flint's chin and enjoying the scratch of stubble against his palm, leaning in slowly. Flint kissed him back, refusing to be cowed by Silver's boldness. It was what Silver had dreamed of. Yet somehow when he withdraw he was disappointed.

A few spins later and Max beckoned when the bottle she spun landed pointing at Silver. "Don't make me crawl to you, _mon amour_ ," she begged. "Not in this dress."

Her elegant deep blue dress was not meant for such treatment and Silver acquiesced, scrambling to kneel before her. Max ran her fingers down his cheek before she leaned in and kissed him. He didn't push so hard as he had with Flint. Perhaps the lack of fighting for dominance was why this kiss was more enjoyable.

Jack, having kissed several people and nearly choked on a jalapeno, decided the game was over. Music began to play once more, the sofa was restored to its rightful place, more drinks were provided and the snack plates were replenished.

Vane returned to the balcony for another cigarette, Eleanor slumped in a chair and let her hair cascade over the back in a blonde waterfall, and Billy danced with Miranda for a while. Silver picked at the food, occasionally scratching at his wrist, watching Flint talk business with Teach who'd returned from his alleged phone call.

"Everything all right?" Jack asked as he played the good host, circulating around the room. He topped up Silver's glass, no doubt hoping this would be more likely to gain an answer in the affirmative.

"Yes," Silver said and gave one of his charming smiles, though, like Max's forced efforts this evening, he wasn't feeling the genuine emotion. When Max joined him a few minutes later and asked when he wanted to go, Silver immediately said, "Whenever you're ready," and drained the glass in one go.

Billy didn't want to leave and promised to make his own way home later. Silver and Max returned home alone, Silver trying to shake a feeling of foreboding.

Max sat on the sofa while Silver made coffee. When he placed the mug in front of her, Silver was startled to see tears in Max's hazel eyes.

He sat next to her. "What's wrong?"

She swallowed hard. "Things are difficult right now. With Anne and Jack."

"I noticed." He put his left arm around her and she leaned into him. Her perfume, light and floral, hung in the air. "Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

"No." She wrapped her arm across him, fingers clasping his right arm. Without conscious thought, he rocked her side to side gently, the soothing motion of a rowboat in a calm harbour.

He'd lost count of the number of times Max had been here for him, the hours of listening to his whining about Flint, the times she'd stroked his hair back from his hair and told him it would be all right. So many evenings she had held him close without any words, her physical presence alone enough to offset whatever doubt or anger or hurt was bothering him.

Then there were the nights they'd platonically shared a bed. The first time that had happened it was Max and not Silver who had been upset, and it had been at her request.

It was a Thursday night when she'd come home crying and Silver had been horrified because Max did not cry. He'd guessed it was a Jack-and-Anne thing. He threatened to go and punch Jack if it would help.

That had made her laugh through her tears. "No," she said. "And besides, it is more Anne I am fighting with."

"Oh, I don't hit women," Silver had told her, adding, less chivalrously but with complete honesty, "and anyway, Anne scares the shit out of me."

Max had kissed his cheek then and begged to sleep alongside him. He'd spooned her, he in pajama bottoms, she in a t-shirt and shorts, and it hadn't seemed weird or untoward in the least.

Tonight, as then, it wasn't nice to see Max upset but there was a certain satisfaction in knowing he could provide her with comfort, as she so often comforted him. Somewhere along the line he'd become not only accustomed to having Max around, but to cherish and rely on her. He didn't like to think how he'd go on without her in his life - though everyone left him eventually - because he knew life would be more difficult and less rewarding.

Some people claimed when their soulmates died the world lost its colour. Others said that such an experience had nothing to do with the soulbond but was a metaphorical and identical experience to any heartfelt loss (and/or severe depression).

Tonight Silver let his gaze run over the electric blue dress and pushed away the idea of a world without that brightness in it.

*

When Flint kissed him it was wonderful and a rainbow streaked across the sky. Silver was slightly unnerved by this but Max, standing beside him, didn't seem concerned. Jack, on the other hand, was playing spin the bottle by himself, sitting on the grass, the picture of misery. Anne, arms folded regarded them all with disdain. "What I want ought to matter," she snarled.

It was a relief to wake up from that increasingly bizarre dream. Silver hadn't been that drunk nor been dabbling in any unusual substances yet he had no explanation for the vividness of the colours in the dream, nor the way the breeze had moved his hair. His dreams were never usually so intense and, while Flint appeared often enough, Silver had never before been subjected to Anne haunting his sleep.

Bleary-eyed, Silver stumbled into the living room. Billy was sat on the sofa, watching the news; a tearful woman was telling her story of becoming a refugee. Her father had once beaten her for going outside without a headscarf but she'd still been horrified when he saw her matchmark was that of a woman and reacted by attempting to cut off her hand. Her mother had been badly injured trying to protect her while the woman ran outside for help. CAS had stepped in and whisked both mother and daughter away, putting an ocean between the victim and the man who'd see his daughter mutilated over something beyond her control, and the woman within a hundred miles of her soulmate.

"Soulmarks are not inherently a bad thing," the earnest CAS worker, Kaede Tamura, explained as Silver poured coffee, stifling a yawn. Party on a weeknight, thanks Jack.

The problem, Kaede said, was the inherent homophobia, biphobia, and oversexualised cultures that caused most of the issues around soulmarks. She was saddened that something that should let you find someone to be your anchor in a storm had been twisted into something that would bring shame to your family, or cause grief over unrequited bonds.

The beatings and dismemberments, the grief and the suicides; of course there were downsides to soulmarks but these were choices made by the people involved and there would be adultery and homophobia and suicide over unrequited loves even without the marks.

"We'll be discussing unrequited bonds tomorrow," the cheerful newsreader said at the end of the report. "Why do they happen, what do they mean, and can anything be done about them? Also, tonight's episode of "The Best Sex" is _The Best Sex is Sex With Your Soulmate_. And now, the weather."

Billy, scoffing at the "sex with your soulmate" comment, turned off the television before the weather report began. His phone app had proven more reliable in such matters.

"What time did you get in?" Silver asked, sipping at his coffee.

"A little after one." Billy stretched and gave a sly grin. "I'm working from home today."

"You look busy," Silver teased and went to take a shower. Max had left before he'd even got up but the bathroom still smelt of her perfume and shampoo and it made a nice counterpoint to his muskier shower gel.

Patting his skin dry he rubbed at the inside of his wrist. His soulmark was no longer irritating him at least. He applied some moisturiser to both wrists and his face before he turned his attention to his hair, spending at least as long as Max did on her hair, tending to his curls.

Billy was using the laptop on the dining table when Silver was finally dressed and coiffured to his satisfaction.

"Do you ever think it would better if no-one had soulmarks?" Silver asked, picking up his keys and shrugging his coat on. "You seem fine without one."

"Maybe," Billy agreed. "But I'm with the woman from CAS. It's how you and those around you react to the bond that's the issue. People fall in love and have sex and do stupid things all the time regardless of their soulmarks."

"I suppose so." He wasn't sure why the subject was on his mind so much. Silver said goodbye and headed out to work.

*

Silver was scrubbing a frying pan when the matchmark started to appear. He dropped the pan into the sink, making a greasy splash, partly horrified but mostly enraptured. Almost directly opposite his soulmark, on the inner of his left wrist, faint blue lines traced across his skin.

CAS, and some medical professionals and mental health experts had pushed for legislation to give people a few days to deal with the repercussions of discovering your soulmate. Emotions and other senses could be heightened during the initial bonding, and the shared emotions could be overwhelming or confusing until equilibrium was found. Silver didn't think he'd get the rest of the day off however and had to try to focus while constantly sneaking peeks at the developing matchmark. The lunchtime rush distracted him for a while at least.

By the time he got home the mark was almost fully visible, the numbers finally starting to develop. Silver, thanking his stars he was alone, sat on the sofa and examined the mark.

Where was the J? The line that he bore for John, the one Billy pointed out that would signify J as in James? Silver frowned. No J. There was an A, though, unless he was mistaken. And wait this sigil looked familiar.

The elegant swirls were unmistakable even before the date and coordinates were fully visible. He could check against the photographs Billy had taken but there was no need.

Silver tasted bile. This was some sort of sick joke.

The year coalesced first. Not more than a decade older than him as would have been the case for Flint, but just a year younger. He already knew what the month would be.

Not Flint. That had been his first thought, the disappointment heavy in his heart. But this was worse. This would ruin everything.

Two shots of whisky did nothing to prevent the matchmark taunting him whenever he caught sight of it, even if it did quell his nausea somewhat.

Max was going to kill him.

This was Jack's fault. His stupid party game. That kiss - for one brief moment Silver was lost in recalling the sensation - that must have been the trigger. Fuck you, Jack. Fuck you!

Silver buried his face in his hands. Max had Anne, and Jack, sort of? It was complicated. Nobody would thank him for further complicating matters. Max liked women? She'd had boyfriends in the past though? She'd side-eyed someone who'd called her a lesbian once; "I don't like to label myself," Max had told them firmly and turned to engage Silver in a conversation that the labeller could be no part of.

But anyway, she had Anne in particular now, and Jack too but Silver didn't quite understand it - and it hadn't mattered before because it was none of his business. Except now it was, sort of.

Soulmates shared a bond. That meant different things to different people. There were dozens of books about it, documentaries, Internet sites. No longer hating a colour if it was your soulmate's favourite, going back to eating meat after being vegetarian or eating more kinds of vegetables as tastes became similar, having shared dreams, always feeling it when your soulmate was close by, knowing when your soulmate was in pain - even feeling their pain.

A soulbond, many said, went beyond all other relationships and affections, sexual or otherwise.

Another shot of whisky.

"What's your worst fear?" Billy had asked during another one of Jack's ridiculous games. "Let me guess: losing your hair."

Silver had tossed his curls. "You're just jealous. And yes."

It had been a lie. Sure he loved his hair and losing it was a fear, along with losing his sight or a limb. But the fear he couldn't bear to dwell on was that he'd lose the sense of belonging he'd finally found in having Max and Billy as roommates. That he'd screw it up as he always did. That Max would one day look at him with disgust, would throw him out or pack up and leave him.

It was Billy who'd picked him up from the police station after that misunderstanding which was never mentioned by unspoken agreement. But it was Max who'd stayed home to take care of him when he'd been so sick with flu he'd insisted he was dying. (He'd written a will in his delirium which turned out to be a note scribbled on the back of a tissue box which read _'all my wordy goods to max & billy to destrbute as thy see fit also ples delet my browser history'_ [sic]; his "wordy goods" was still a source of amusement to his roommates though Billy had promised faithfully to delete Silver's browser history in the event of his death in return for the vow being reciprocated)

It was Max who would make tea and sit with him when he couldn't sleep and refused to speak of the nightmares that were plaguing him.

It was Max who had let him sleep in her bed when he came home half-drunk and ranting about Thomas Hamilton.

It was Max who had made their arrangement into a family, the house into a home, seemingly without effort.

It was Max that Silver worried about when she was late home, checking his phone and lying awake until he heard her key in the lock.

He fully expected to piss Billy off one day so much that Billy either punched him in the face, or left, or both. But Max; Silver dreaded losing her most of all and the depth of his affection for her wasn't something he ever let himself dwell on lest he cause its destruction.

Wasn't there some quote about that? Each man destroys what he loves? Silver was too good at that.

This wasn't even his fault which was terribly unfair. Fuck the universe for ruining things.

Max would be horrified when she saw the matchmark and she'd put distance between them. She'd move out. And who could blame her, when it was an unwanted bond?

Silver poured another shot of whisky and took out his phone, wanting to call Billy. He downed the shot but put away the phone. No sense dragging Billy into this mess yet. Of course the moment Max confronted him - unless -

It was supposed to be bad luck to have an unrequited soulbond and he'd always believed that but now Silver grasped for the possibility like a drowning man for a lifeline.

If the bond was unrequited no-one had to know. He'd hide the mark until he came up with a more long-term way of dealing with it. He was an expert at dealing with the immediacy and worrying about the rest later. It wasn't a good plan but it a workable one.

*

Silver tried to remain calm and ignore his twin soulmarks, difficult as this was.

While soulmarks were always in the same place, matchmarks did on occasion, vary. They were still in 85% of cases on the wrist or the hand, but 5% appeared on the back including the nape of the neck. Less than 1% were on the face or throat. The remainder were on other parts of the body, the front or back of the torso, the upper arms, the legs or feet.

Why couldn't this damn thing have been hidden? If it had been on his butt then Silver wouldn't be concerned Max would ever see it. Hell he might never have noticed it himself!

He'd worn long sleeves since the mark appeared, never rolling them back as he liked to. He had to wear a t-shirt for work but Randall hadn't noticed the mark and Silver had kept out of Flint's way when he'd stopped by yesterday morning. Hiding the mark at work was bad enough, but sooner or later one of his roommates was going to get suspicious.

Silver had looked up some of the websites about soulbonds and dealing with soulmarks. There was makeup that could be used to cover scars and tattoos, an expensive and temporary option. Some people had attempted to have a tattoo to disguise or cover their soulmark. This was sometimes successful but often not. Sometimes the mark changed colour, showing through the tattoo that tried to hide it. Infections, rare if the tattoo parlour took the correct precautions, were more frequent when a soulmark was involved and many tattoo artists refused to attempt to ink over a mark.

Some people had fake soulmarks tattooed upon them for various reasons and the morality of this was hotly debated. (It was probably okay if you were just copying your not-usually visible matchmark from your back onto your wrist to show you were bonded but it was bad taste at best to get a fake mark and try to persuade someone they were your match, as was altering your own soulmark to hide your identity.)

Silver perused one of the forums for a while more in an effort to rid himself of the image of an particularly nasty infected tattoo than any actual interest in the subject and found other, sometimes more extreme ways of attempting to remove a soulmark or matchmark.

Some people had tried to burn a mark away which was more successful - and painful, and almost always disfiguring, and prone to infection. Not to mention that sometimes the soulmark proved durable, showing up even on otherwise ruined skin, visible despite the scars.

One anonymous poster showed off their wrist, blank, they claimed, as a result of an expensive skin graft that they thought was worth the money and which the matchmark had not seeped through.

In response others said they'd managed to rid themselves of a mark by cutting through the epidermis and the outer layer of the dermis to remove the skin. A clean knife and some antibiotic cream and the soulmark was permanently removed. The veracity of this was questioned.

Basically there was no one answer, much like everything else in life.

As he meandered around the supermarket with the other Saturday shoppers Silver checked his phone. There was a message from Max saying she would be home for dinner that evening but had some errands to run first, and apologising for not making it back for lunch. He wondered if she meant she was doing things with Anne.

The hint of jealousy at the thought surprised him and he blamed the matchmark for it. The disappointment that she wouldn't be home for lunch wasn't such a shock but it did remind him how much Max meant to him. Billy was out at a meeting, Saturday the only day everyone could make it, and Max had promised she'd watch _The Secret of Merlin's Hill_ with Silver that afternoon while Billy was out. He and Billy had watched the medieval themed comedy without her one evening and been quoting from, and making jokes about it, ever since, driving Max crazy.

These thoughts occupied him on the way home. As he put away the food, reaching up to place the cereal on the higher shelf of the cupboard, Silver caught sight of the matchmark peeking from under his cuff. Once again his thoughts spiralled; one such incident and Max would see it. She'd immediately know and she'd yell at him in French before going to pack. She'd move in with Anne and Jack and want nothing to do with him. Long sleeves were only ever going to be a temporary option. It was time for something more permanent.

It was one of the most ridiculous ideas he'd had in a while but, while using the small but incredibly sharp knife to slice up tomatoes for a salad in preparation for the evening, Silver idly wondered how hard it would be to remove the mark. The epidermis was less than a millimetre thick after all.

He washed the knife. He folded back his sleeve and scrubbed his wrist and forearm with antiseptic. He put a clean towel by the bathroom sink. He gave himself one encouraging smile in the mirror and took a deep breath.

This was all Jack's fault.

But it was Silver's responsibility to do the right thing. He took a deep breath and aimed the knife at his wrist.

The first attempt did nothing, barely grazed the skin.

Coward, he berated himself. Gritting his teeth, he poured all his anger and hatred of the matchmark into one moment of white-hot rage and dragged the blade against his wrist in one deep circular motion.

Blood began to pour spectacularly. Silver wanted to continue cutting around the mark - "trim close to the edges" the forum advice had been, as if it were a simple matter and not full of pain and panic - but he was unable to continue. Logically he'd known there would be blood but there was a lot more than he'd imagined.

Drips fell on the edge of the sink, pooling and falling to the floor. Silver reached for the towel, more blood spraying across the bathroom. He dabbed ineffectually at the wound. Red liquid seeped up from beneath the damaged skin, the white towel - and why had he chosen white, Max would be furious if it stained - turning pink and red as he pressed the cotton against his wrist.

It was becoming clear he'd made a terrible mistake.

Silver had never believed in Providence but something or someone was watching over him that day, for Billy's meeting had finished early and he arrived home at that moment. The sound of the door opening and closing, the messenger bag hitting the floor were welcome sounds.

"Hey, Teach had to leave at noon so the meeting –" Billy stood in the doorway, eyes widening in shock. "What the fuck?"

"Bit of an accident," Silver said. "If you could just – "

"Just" what neither of them were quite clear on.

Billy came to see the damage, taking up another towel. "Fuck. I think you might need stitches."

"No!"

Billy pulled back the blood-soaked cloth and chewed at his lip a moment. "It looks bad. Shit, is that a matchmark? There's quite a bit of blood here. John, I know you don't want to hear this but I really think we should go to the emergency room."

"No," Silver said again, though he was starting to worry.

"I get it. Because they'll want to know how and why you sliced your wrist open," Billy said. "I'm curious myself."

"Can we talk when I'm not bleeding quite so much?"

With a long-suffering sigh, Billy left the room, returning a few minutes later with supplies.

"Sit on the floor," he ordered. Silver did as he was told, avoiding the blood spatter, and was compliant as Billy exposed the wound and rinsed it.

"Superglue was originally used on the battlefield," Billy said cheerfully, trying to distract them both as he opened the tube and began to apply the glue. "I know it probably stings a bit and it'll be messier than stitches but it's this or the hospital. Also glue is really not for joints but let's see how it goes."

That it would sting "a bit" turned out to be an understatement. After an initial howl of pain, Silver bit down hard on his lip, whimpering as Billy worked, pinching around the edges like he was crimping the pastry lid onto a fruit pie. To everyone's relief the blood ceased flowing.

Gauze followed the glue, a bandage over that. Billy placed Silver's left hand on his shoulder.

"Keep it elevated," he said. "And still, so you let the glue work." He sat back on his heels and looked at the mess. "Fuck."

Silver was inclined to agree but what was there to say? Fuck pretty much covered it.

"Are you all right? You look terrible. Maybe you should lie down."

"Maybe," Silver agreed.

"Come on," Billy said. "Don't make me carry you."

He was teasing but the concern beneath the words was evident. Billy all but lifted Silver to his feet and moved him to his room, making him sit on the edge of the bed.

Admonishing him to remain still, Billy unbuttoned the blood-stained shirt, letting Silver lift his hand long enough to tug his right arm free of the sleeve, quickly followed by the other.

Billy tossed him a t-shirt from the nearest drawer. Silver managed to work his way into it while Billy bent down to remove his shoes. Thus clothed, Silver slid beneath the covers, Billy fussing a bit to make sure he was comfortable, putting one pillow beneath his left arm to help keep the injury raised.

"I'm going to bring you a glass of water and you are going to drink all of it," Billy said and Silver didn't even attempt to argue.

The water was followed by a re-hydration sachet Billy had found in the medicine cupboard.

"So what happened?" Billy asked, perched on the edge of the bed, handing over a third glass, this one an energy drink.

"You wouldn't understand." Now he wasn't at risk of bleeding to death, Silver was regretting his actions, but was none the less miserable about his matchmark.

"I might. Can't be worse than what I'm thinking already."

Silver took a sip of the sweet liquid. "I wasn't trying to kill myself."

"Then what kind of accident happens in the bathroom with a knife?" There was no judgement, only frustration and anxiety in Billy's tone.

With a sigh, Silver said, "You remember the party?"

"Of course I do. What about it?"

"The next morning I woke up with my matchmark."

Billy frowned. "I'm guessing you don't want to be congratulated."

"No."

"Is it Flint?"

Silver scoffed. "It so, don't you think I would have gone straight to his house and brandished it at him?"

It was a fair point, Billy conceded.

"Besides I think it must have been the kissing that triggered it."

"Charles?" Billy was as horrified at the idea as Silver would have been. Sure they could have shared hair products, but Charles Vane had a nasty streak and Silver would have feared for his life if he'd been bonded to the man.

"No!"

Billy stroked at his chin, thinking. "Who else did you kiss?" His expression froze. "Max?"

Silver nodded. "Max," he said sadly.

"Shit."

"Exactly." Silver closed his eyes. Billy nudged him, made him take another sip of the energy drink.

"You're sure?"

"Yes. I know what her soulmark looks like!"

Billy frowned, taking the glass from Silver. "Okay. I don't get the part with the knife."

Silver moaned in frustration which was the wrong response, seeing how upset it made Billy. If he wasn't careful Billy would drag him off to the hospital. "It's _Max_."

This did not enlighten Billy. "I still don't get it. I can see you being disappointed it's not Flint's mark but I don't see any reason to hurt yourself."

"Because it's Max…" Silver tried again.

"And? At least you two are close."

"We won't be close much longer. Not when she sees this!" Silver gestured weakly with his left arm, earning a glare from Billy. "She's with Anne, and Anne is already complicated, and there's Jack, and _Max_ ; God, Billy, you and Max are the closest I've had to friends. To family. I don't want to lose her."

Despite the blood loss, or perhaps because of it, Silver blinked away unexpected tears.

Billy shook his head. "Do I talk to myself?" he said, his tone soft but still reprimanding. "All the times I say soulmates don't have to be sexual, you just ignore me?"

Silver gave a guilty shrug.

"You think Max will be so horrified she'll what? Be angry with you for something you didn't choose? Leave you, even though you're her soulmate? Kill you? Because you were doing a pretty good job of that yourself."

"I was just trying to cut it away," Silver said desperately. "So she'd never know."

Billy gave a terse lecture on the problems of destroying the soulmark. Apparently he'd seen some of the things on those forums and as a CAS member he disapproved.

"And even if you do get rid of it," he concluded, "it doesn't destroy the bond itself."

"But Max would never know." Silver didn't know how to make this clearer to Billy. What people didn't know couldn't hurt them, or as least not nearly as much as what they did.

"If she gets your matchmark then of course she will!"

Silver gave a humourless laugh. "Clearly that isn't the case, or she'd have told me."

Matchmarks could take a few hours or several days to develop, but reciprocal matchmarks did tend to appear at around the same time and they both knew this. Billy fell silent.

"Yes," Silver said, reaching for the glass. He took a large swallow. "No matter what my feelings are, or how I'm connected to her, she is not for me."

"John…"

Silver shoved the nearly empty glass at him. "Don't tell her. And let me sleep." It was more to get rid of Billy than anything but the post-adrenaline rush had left him drained.

Billy went, leaving the door half-open behind him. Silver heard water running in the bathroom before he did actually drift off, heard doors opening and closing. In his half-remembered dreams his matchmark was indeed Flint's and after Flint had vented his fury on Silver as if it were his fault, there was kissing, until Thomas Hamilton barged into the room and demanded to know what they were doing.

"Sorry," Silver mumbled.

"I should hope so."

That wasn't Thomas. The voice was feminine. Silver fought his way back to consciousness. Max had taken Billy's previous seat, sitting on the edge of the bed and regarding him with a similar mixture of concern and anger.

"Hey," he managed.

Her lips moved but no sound came out as she sought the most appropriate response.

"All afternoon I felt something was wrong and then I came home to find Billy in the midst of what looked like a crime scene," she said at last, which Silver thought was an exaggeration. "He said you'd had some sort of accident. I thought maybe you had finally annoyed him so much he'd actually killed you."

It was hard to tell if she was joking.

"We spent half an hour cleaning up," Max said tightly. "And then I made Billy tell me what happened. Don't blame him. If you think I cannot get information from someone, you underestimate me. Besides he wanted to tell me. He's worried, and rightly so."

Silver's gaze fell on his bandaged wrist. "He told you about the matchmark."

"Yes."

At least she wouldn't hear it from his lips. It ought to have been more of a relief.

"I'm sorry." This time the apology was addressed to her and it was sincere.

"For the bond? That's not your fault. This-" and she gestured to the injury, "is your fault. What were you thinking?"

"That I could destroy the mark before you ever saw it."

Max glared at him. "I don't have the right word," she said. "Not in English nor in French. Such utter stupidity deserves some new word."

"Max-"

"No! You cannot weasel out of this. How do you think I feel, knowing you would rather die than be bonded to me?" She shook her head, looked away.

Silver felt a fresh pang of guilt. That particular aspect of the situation had not occurred to him. She misunderstood his actions.

"I wasn't trying to kill myself." He'd keep saying it until he was sure everyone believed him. The horror of institutionalisation loomed over him.

Max was not convinced. "You must have known the risk," she said. "What if you'd sliced open an artery and bled to death?"

Silver pushed away the recollection of his mounting terror at the sight of the blood and subsequent relief when Billy arrived. Summoning up as much bravado as he could, he said, "But I didn't. And that wasn't my intention."

Yet she was right; at the back of his mind he had known the risk. Had considered it and found it acceptable.

"Not death then," Max allowed to his relief. "But mutilating yourself was just fine? It was preferable to bearing the mark? My mark."

"Yes."

"Why?" Max took his right hand in both of hers as if to prevent him from moving despite their current situation, or as if the physical contact might make him open up to her. "The truth."

Silver closed his eyes, gathered his thoughts. He blinked and fixed his gaze on Max. "Because I thought you'd hate me," he said.

That was the crux of it, wasn't it? That she'd be angry, that it would change their relationship, that she'd abandon him. The fear behind it all was that she'd see the soulmark and despise him for it.

That he would lose her.

Her expression softened. Her fingers tightened around his hand. " _Mon amour_. No."

"Besides, there's nothing so pathetic as an unrequited soulbond," he added. "You know those stories. If your soulmate rejects you either you die or wish you were dead."

Max dragged his hand closer, held it against her cleavage, eyes burning with unshed tears. "Those are just stories," she said, voice low and harsh. "You idiot. You…" English failed her, "… _con! C'est pas croyable!_ "

It wasn't often she lapsed into French, an indicator of her agitation. Abruptly she released him. She stood, paced the room, patted at her hair. After a few moments she returned to sit alongside him.

"You should have told me," she said, fingers deftly unbuttoning her olive green blouse. "But I admit I must share the blame."

The blouse was pushed aside, revealing a black lacy bra. Silver watched, uncertain of her intentions. Max ran two fingers beneath the edge of the bra, folding it back to expose more smooth brown skin. Close to the nipple, which was still hidden by the bra, was an unmistakable matchmark.

As he looked closer, Silver was astonished to discover that it was his. He checked the date to be certain but the numbers did not lie.

He was too stunned to do anything but continue to stare for a long moment. He'd found the matchmark on his wrist shameful, something that would cause him pain. He thought his own soulmark dull at best. Yet the matchmark looked natural upon Max's skin, not only fitting but becoming.

"Oh." That was all he could manage. Silver was lost for words.

Max smiled. "You see?"

He nodded.

"Do you want to touch it? Convince yourself it is real and not some plot I cooked up with Billy?"

He hesitated and she took his hand again, with her free one, placed his fingers over the mark.

"Max." He stroked the warm flesh, withdrew his hand.

"Matchmarks are not always somewhere visible." She smoothed out the bra and began to button the blouse back up.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Silver couldn't help the accusation creeping into his tone. At least half of his desperation had been from the thought of Max's rightful rejection of an unwanted and unrequited bond.

"It was your insistence that unrequited bonds are unlucky that made me hold my tongue. I thought you would have told me the moment you got the matchmark. When you did not, I assumed you had not gained a matchmark. I didn't want to make you feel obligated to me, saddened by my unrequited bond."

He laughed. "Perhaps we are made for each other," he allowed. "Both hiding our marks for similar reasons. I didn't want to make your life more complicated. Nor did I want you to hate me for making it so."

Max frowned a little. "There's no other reason?"

"Like what?"

"I merely wondered…is it true then you do have affection for me?"

How could she ask that? "Of course I do!"

"I had to ask," Max said, somewhat sharply. "You chose a paring knife over me!"

"For you," Silver retorted. "So you weren't stuck with me!"

For a moment he thought she would slap him and then the fire that leapt in her eyes cooled.

"John. Oh, you idiot. I love you," Max said. "Are you such a fool you don't know that by now? What does Billy say? Better alone than a bad soulmate, and better a lifelong friend than a lover's brief spark. Soulmates are supposed to be those you will always want in your life. Is that not us? Am I not that to you?"

He nodded, not trusting himself with words, afraid that any attempt to speak would result in weeping. He hadn't realised until the blade parted skin just how much he cared, that his desire to keep her in his life was truly so deep and full of such affection that it had let him attempt to bear such risk and pain.

" _Mon amour_." Max bit back a sob. She reached out and wiped at his cheek where despite his efforts treacherous tears had escaped. Despite himself he leaned into her touch.

"I love you too," he whispered.

After a few minutes, Max climbed over him and sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard. "We have things to discuss."

"Yes. What happens now?" he asked.

"I don't know. For the moment, nothing," Max said. "I think we should wait a day or two at least to let the bond settle. I won't tell anyone else yet."

Meaning Anne and Jack.

"All right."

"I can't promise this bond will not change things," Max said. "I think it must. But they don't have to be bad changes. We will take things slowly and not make any further rash decisions."

He didn't argue. He'd made enough bad choices for one week.

"Can I ask you something?" Max was hesitant but she'd more than earned the right.

"Anything."

"Are you disappointed - not so much that it is my mark, but that it is not Flint's?"

Ashamed, Silver nodded. "Then he'd have to give me - give us - a chance."

"The bond doesn't work like that," she said softly. "And I know you have feelings for him, and I think he likes you. But _mon amour_ I do not think he can reciprocate the depth of your affection. You cannot replace Thomas, nor should you try to."

"Goddamn Thomas Hamilton," Silver complained. "And goddamn Jack Rackahm. This is his fault."

Max tipped her head. "How is this Jack's fault?"

Silver sighed. "He made us play that stupid game and when we kissed, that's what triggered the bond."

Max shook her head. "No," she said. "You cannot blame Jack this time. My matchmark started to appear before the party. There isn't always a trigger event for these things but if there was for us, I think it was last week. When I was going to stay out overnight, but instead I came home. I got into bed with you at 2am and you turned over without even waking up and held me. "  
He stared at her for a long time. He'd been surprised but not unhappy to find Max in his bed and in his arms. He'd been glad she had come to him for comfort.

Was it possible that, though the mark only appeared after the party, the bond had begun then? He thought back. Incidents he'd ignored took on new meaning; the scent of Max's perfume lingering around him, the feeling of sadness that sat oddly on his shoulders because it was not his emotion to begin with.

"It would have happened anyway, without the kiss." It was an attempt to persuade himself.

Max nodded.

"You were sad," Silver said, focussing on that sensation. "I felt that. Oh God, that's why you were sad, you were already getting your matchmark and that's why you and Anne and Jack were fighting!"

Max clasped his face in her hands. "No!" When he was silent, she released him. "No. This is not your fault! For once, you share no portion of the blame."

He and Jack were both getting off light this time.

"We were not fighting about you," Max said.

"Then what?"

She sighed. "They again asked me to move in but Jack didn't even ask what colour I might have wanted him to repaint the lounge."

Her moving out wasn't something Silver had thought about until it was, in his mind, associated with her leaving because of him and the damn mark on his wrist. He damped down fresh panic.

"And when I tried to explain that it is not the first time they have made decisions without me, Anne got frustrated. I love Anne, I do. I care for Jack, a lot. I enjoy what we have. But Anne and Jack belong together in a way I do not quite belong to either of them. I'm not sure I'm making sense."

Silver nodded. "Go on."

"What Anne has with me and with Jack is complicated. I don't know how it will work out, long-term," Max said with an honesty he appreciated. "But I wasn't ready to move in with them; it would put more strain on the relationship, I think. To be here with you and Billy gives me space I still need. Especially when the complications of my relationship with Anne come to the fore. I am not ready to commit in a way I am not certain is for the best. But Anne saw my need for more time as a betrayal. She's trying to make plans for a future - one I'm not sure she needs me in."

He reached over with his right hand to take Max's hand and squeeze it, not certain how much of the anguish he was now feeling was him sympathising with her and how much he was receiving through the soulbond.

"I think Anne loves you," he offered.

"Yes. And we will try to make it work," she said. "But whatever happens I want you to know that we had a complex relationship before this soulbond. If we break up it will not be because of you. And if we stay together, that does not alter how I feel about you. I will always love you, _mon ange_. No matter what."

Silver stared at the ceiling for a long time. Max leaned over and stroked at his cheeks.

"No more tears," she said huskily, her own eyes damp. "Unless they are joyful ones. When we are both calmer we will announce our bond and we will have a proper celebration, yes?"

"Yes," he said, forcing a smile. "Don't let Jack pick the party games though."

Max laughed and they both dissolved in almost hysterical laughter. When they got themselves back under control, Max brushed a lock of hair back from Silver's face.

"I hope you have not mutilated the matchmark so badly it will be illegible."

"It's supposed to be pretty durable," Silver offered, having studied this subject intensely just a couple of days ago. "In fact some people say wounds heal up quicker when a soulmark is involved." That would be helpful if it turned out to be true.

Max nodded. "I've heard that closeness between soulmates can speed healing up too."

"Is that so?"

She kissed him and this was longer and deeper than the kiss at the party. There was no hesitation from either of them, no holding back. The floral scent was strong in the air, he felt his heart beat in unison with hers, and, when Max finally drew back, licking at the edge of her lips with satisfaction, he could have sworn the olive green was brighter, her lipstick more pink.

"I think it's helping," Silver said.

Billy cleared his throat, lurking in the doorway. "I'm making food," he said, when he was sure he had their attention. "You're going to sit at the table and you're going to eat to prove to me you haven't done yourself any permanent damage."

Silver gave a contrite response in agreement.

Steak; Billy had been to the butchers especially and served the meat medium-rare, out of some vague notion that it would replenish the blood in general and the iron in particular that Silver had lost. It was served with a selection of vegetables; peas, carrots, cauliflower, and broccoli. There was also a generous helping of mashed potato.

"Why is the potato pink?" Silver asked, poking at it with suspicion.

"Beetroot," Billy said with a stern look. "I know you won't eat it otherwise but it was an early remedy for blood loss, before we discovered how to give blood transfusions without killing people."

Silver ate as much of the pink mash as he could bear. "You know a lot about weird medical history."

"Luckily for you, I know a lot of things, weird and otherwise," Billy said without rancour. He turned to Max. "So, what now?"

"We carry on almost as before," she said. "If you will keep our secret for a few days it would be appreciated."

"Of course I will. I've got some CAS literature if you need. About dealing with unexpected or unwanted soulbonds."

Silver shook his head. "It's not unwanted," he said and was gratified to see Max smile at his words.

Afterwards, they watched _The Secret of Merlin's Hill_ , reassuring Billy that everything was fine and he too was still loved, Max managing to lie over both the men somehow on the sofa, and sip from her drink without a spilling a drop.

"Will you let me share your bed?" Max asked Silver afterwards, once Billy had gone to his room.

Silver smiled. "Yes. I'd like that."

She pressed one hand to his cheek. "That first time was when I knew I loved you, you know. You held me and I was comforted and I knew we were more than roommates. Friends in a way it's hard to explain to others. Billy once suggested queerplatonic; I'm not sure if it is the right word or if we even need one. I only know what I feel."

"You talk to Billy about us?" he asked in surprise.

"You don't?"

"Not about you. About everything else but not you. In case I screwed things up. I tried not to think too much about it."

She sighed. "That is one thing that will need to change."

"I know." But he was no longer afraid.

This night, Max spooned him as he slept and it was the best night's sleep he had in ages.

*

Flint inspected the sinks and found them satisfactory. He asked Randall about the freezer and ran a critical eye over the worksurfaces before he made sure they were rotating the salad ingredients properly.

"Mr Silver," Flint began, the usual Monday interrogation about to begin. He caught sight of the white bandage on Silver's wrist, clearly visible due to the company provided blue t-shirt. "What happened there?"

"Minor accident."

"At work?"

Silver shook his head. "No."

Flint stared at him. "Come here," he said, gesturing and Silver had no choice but to follow him into the stockroom. Flint crossed his arms. "What kind of accident?"

"A stupid one?" Silver beamed but Flint was unmoved. "It's nothing."

"Are you sure?"

Of all the times for Flint to get concerned about his welfare he had to choose now? Silver bit back a sigh and tried leveraging the truth for his cause.

"I got my matchmark," he admitted. "I'm hiding it."

Flint's eyes widened. "Oh?"

Did he wonder if it might be his? Silver let him sweat for as long as he dared. "It's my room-mate, Max's," he said finally.

"Max? As in Jack and Anne and Max?" Flint gave a low whistle. "It's requited?"

"Yes. So you can see that it's complicated," Silver said. "We're keeping it quiet for now. Max can wear long sleeves to work but I can't."

Flint nodded. "I understand." He tipped his head. "Miranda does some work with CAS."

"Oh?" Silver actually already knew this; Billy had spoken to her at a previous gathering in the hopes she'd bring her compassion and her family's money to the board, and Miranda had agreed to join them.

"I understand it's sometimes considered helpful to take some time out to deal with the repercussions of a bond. Have some counselling sessions, or whatever."

Silver shrugged. "Billy says so."

"Yes." Flint gave Silver an appraising look. "If you need a couple of days off to deal with this, or if you want go to some of those CAS events, let me know."

"I will. Thank you."

Flint's gaze fell on his own wrist, covered by his suit jacket. "I hope you and Max can make each other happy," he said, a hint of regret in his tone.

"Thank you." Silver was almost glad to get back to work.

*

That night Max and Silver shared a bed, as they had the previous two nights.

In the dream that followed Silver stood barefoot on a moonlit beach, hand in hand with Max. A warm wind stirred their hair and their soulmarks glowed, visible on their wrists and through the thin material of Max's sheer electric blue dress. And he was happy.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Tinamour for the amazing beta job (all remaining mistakes are mine) and of course for correcting my appalling French :)  
> Thanks to madisilverflint for the wonderful picspam art which you can see also see at [tumblr](http://madisilverflint.tumblr.com/post/168323500025/the-lock-and-la-cl%C3%A8-by-meridianrose-it-was-all)
> 
> Tumblr promo post for the fic [here](http://meridianrose.tumblr.com/post/168318386606/the-lock-la-cl%C3%A9-11082-words-by-meridianrose)


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